


Platonic, with a capital "P"

by Nalyra



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Murder Husbands, Murder Husbands Big Bang, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-04 18:04:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: Healed again and in Cuba Will and Hannibal run into an old friend, serving as a catalyst for them to become true ‚Murder Husbands'





	Platonic, with a capital "P"

„Are you happy, Will?“

Will mulls over the words, sipping the blue cocktail slowly, watching the waves roll in, close to the little bar they are in, turquoise blue matching the drink as far as his eye reaches. He exhales slowly, turning his face up, the sun illuminating his face for a moment before he averts it to look at Hannibal, gaze open. A small smile tugs on Will's lips, there and gone again, echoed by Hannibal, non verbal communication as easy as breathing by now, and just as desperately craved, though oftentimes hiding just as much. 

„Happiness is not exactly what I thought we would have…“

Hannibal narrows his eyes for a moment, lips pursing, an expression of something fierce and wild sharpening his features for just a split second before dissolving into geniality again, the mask worn for the other humans around them, blissfully unaware of them. Will smirks at him and shrugs lightly, the soft breeze a welcome counterpoint to the hot sun rays, the cool linen clothing they wear changing both their appearances dramatically, out in the sun now more often, now that they have finally healed. Will puts the drink on the little table between them carefully, the tart taste addictive on his tongue, leaning over slightly, his voice low.

„As happy as we deserve to be… Oskar.“

He says the chosen fake name with a little drawl, emphasizing it just a bit too much, sees the flash of … not quite annoyance but definitely recognition of his teasing in the dark red eyes, chuckling slightly. Hannibal reaches over and grabs Will's wrist loosely, fingers cool on Will's skin, the touch nonetheless burning. Will shivers in the heat and then withdraws his hand slowly, taking the drink again, fleeing into action. Hannibal turns towards the sea, nonchalantly, no muscle moving, and Will closes his eyes, annoyed at himself and his instinctual withdrawal. Repeated withdrawal. Fuck.

Hannibal gets up and leaves, quietly, the absence of him like an open wound, throbbing and painful and Will curses quietly and viciously to himself, signaling for another cocktail in consternation. He scratches his beard, feeling the silvery line there, almost completely hidden, carefully redone by Hannibal when they were both able to stay up more than a few minutes at a time, memories of calm hands, gliding over his skin. Hannibal had redone all of Will’s scars, silently, carefully, with the exception of the smile, Will's hand stopping him when he reached for it. He traces his belly for a moment through the shirt, feels the uneven and crooked line through the thin cloth, the nerves around the damaged tissue raw, refusing to allow the threatening feelings bloom further. He takes a deep sip of the cocktail when it is brought to him, dropping his hand sideways when the shadow passes over him, and he refocuses slowly, feeling the effects of the cocktails keenly by now.

„May I join you?“

She has an interesting face, open and yet sly, pretty enough but not solely so, freckles and the beginning of laugh lines displayed proudly, smirking at him, not even trying to hide her interest. Her clothing gives her away as another tourist, though it is not as gaudy as to be distasteful, a rather pleasant mix of unobtrusive practical clothing, hugging her in all the right places. Will goes with an intelligent ‚erm‘ for a moment and then vaguely waves a bit with his hand, feeling weirdly out of his depth, the first time alone with another being not Hannibal for months on end.

She sits down without much further ado, grinning at him, her whole face lighting up with the expression and Will cannot not echo it, feels the new line that appears in his cheek, curtesy of the scar pulling his skin. She tilts her head, eyes narrowing slightly, eyes sparkling.

„Is he your boyfriend?“

Will's mouth drops open, eyebrows rising, feeling…. something. He shakes his head to clear it, fumbling for words. She chuckles, reaching over brazenly, her hand covering his.

„I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.“

He finally finds his voice again, snorting slightly, unsettled at himself.

„You’re not making me uncomfortable. I’m sorry, it’s just that…. ‚boyfriend‘ -really- doesn’t cut it.“

She tilts her head.

„Oh no?“

Will cackles, tone very dry.

„No, really, it’s…“

He pauses, watching her for a long moment, watches how her pupils dilate slightly, how she licks her lips, her body language leaving no doubts. He lets the antlers pulse into his vision for a moment, envisioning, can almost taste the aroma of her skin on his tongue, the sun kissed hair glide through his fingers, the soft heat of her around him, an uncomplicated and easy night of physical pleasure beckoning. He swallows, his vision blurring at the edges, angles sharpening, eyes turning red and he rips himself away from it, exhaling a shuddering breath.

He pulls out some bills, places them under the half finished drink silently before he continues, his voice soft, his smile just on this side of fatalistic and sad, forcing himself to be honest, to stop hiding.

„He is much more than that.“

He nods at her and leaves, something in him shifting, drawing him … home.

 

*****

 

He passes by the little airport on his way back, opting to walk, to get his head free, feeling the resolution to force -that- discussion in his bones. ‚Finally‘ his mind supplies unhelpfully, and Will grimaces, hearing her words echo in his mind. ‚But do you ache for him?‘ He pulls a face, acknowledging the ache of -something-, especially right now. 

He jolts back to the here and now when a man bumps into him, apologizing profusely after, carrying a sign, obviously waiting for someone. Will smiles and then looks at the sign by chance, almost missing his step, forcing himself to continue walking, his mind frozen on the words ‚Dr. Frederick Chilton‘.

He continues down the street, not daring to look back, vacillating viciously between elation, surprise and fury, pulling out his phone when he rounds the corner, Hannibal picking up on the second ring. 

„Yes?“

Will covers his mouth with his free hand for a moment, closing his eyes, his tone deceptively soft, with steel underneath.

„Did you know?“

A short silence, then a very withdrawn response and Will opens his eyes again in confusion.

„Her interest was clear. I am surprised you did not stay the night.“

Will narrows his eyes, confused and then literally grunts in annoyance, and he shakes his head, hissing into the phone.

„Oh for gods sakes Ha… Oskar, that’s not what I’m talking about.“

He almost growls into the phone, not giving Hannibal a chance to interrupt.

„Did you know that Frederick will be here soon?“

Another pause, and Will rolls his eyes, waiting it out with grim satisfaction and yet rather impatiently, mind racing.

„Ah. I must admit I did not. How … convenient. We will have to go and get some good wine then.“

Will bites down hard on the chuckle that wants to escape, telling himself it’s -not- funny but also very much aware that Hannibal will be able to read him, even through a phone line. He shakes his head once, raising his eyes to the darkening skies, sighing softly, giving himself the pass of inevitability.

„I really liked it here…“

Hannibal's voice is soft, a caress, conveying too much, for once.

„There are other places for us, Will.“

Will closes his eyes, a slightly bitter smile playing on his lips.

„Places you made for you and me?“

The answer comes immediately, carried on a raw tone.

„Yes.“

Will bites his lips for a moment, a tear gathering in the corner of his eyes, leaving coolness in its wake. He smiles softly, unseen and then huffs a laugh, tone sharp.

„It really has to be a truly fantastic wine though. I’ll wait for you here.“

He closes the call, knowing Hannibal will use the tracking app on his phone to pinpoint his exact position anyway, probably already has. He pretends to scroll through his phone in order to not draw attention to himself, propped up against the house wall, his senses tingling after a few minutes. 

Hannibal sidles up to him and past him and Will sighs, following him into a small alley, trusting Hannibal to know it’s safe when he turns to him, features stark and clean cut in the low light, the image wavering and pulsing with antlers for a second in Will's mind. Will’s heart beats once, hard, and Hannibal blinks, eyes narrowing. Will holds up his hand, smirking wryly, stopping the discussion before it can begin, even though he suddenly yearns for it, surprisingly intensely.

„Later.“

Hannibal inclines his head for a moment, conceding with little reluctance, practicality descending. 

„My contacts tell me that Frederick has chosen the hotel over at the little bay as his escape venue. Very convenient for us.“

Will narrows his eyes, pursing his lips.

„Too convenient?“

A small shrug, looking weirdly elegant. 

„Maybe. We will need to see.“

Hannibal looks at his phone, tone deceptively easy.

„Will you dine with me, Will?“

Will exhales in a rush, trying to put his feeling on the matter into words, opting for humor instead.

„Only if you brought decent wine.“

Red eyes flash up to him, dilating slightly and Will feels the pang in his gut, viciously, so very different from when he saw her eyes do the same. Damn.  
He deliberately licks his lips, allowing himself to see and to feel the effect, feeling the hooks sink ever deeper, the lines blurring.

 

******

 

The guard exchanged for the night shift at 11pm falls asleep in one of the chairs in the hotels lobby around 3am, supposedly complimentary coffee cup drained beside him. Will sidles up with a yawn, pretending to ruffle through the magazines, palming the cup after a moment, careful to hide the spoon and saucer under the magazines. He steps out through the revolving doors, turning back and around the complex, calm descending like a blanket. He smiles at Hannibal when he steps up to him, dropping the cup into a garbage can and sees slight shift in Hannibal's stance, probably impossible to detect for other people. He lifts his head, surveying the balconies above them, the windows dark at this hour, keeping his voice low. 

„How will we get up?“

Hannibal smirks at him and then folds his hand in front of his stomach, upside down, shrugging slightly at the incredulous look Will throws him, voice carrying an amused note.

„I had hoped Frederick would take one of the lower floor apartments. We will need to improvise.“

Will snorts.

„No shit.“

Hannibal's eyes narrow slightly, the corner of his eyes wrinkling slightly.

„Language, mylimasis.“

Will swallows, refusing to visit the emotions the endearment triggers, cursing silently to himself over the untimely self-revelation. Or would that be evaporation of denial. Typical, really. Hannibal tilts his head a tiny fraction and then the lines get deeper, softening his expression, a genial and curious expression spreading on his face. Will feels his ears heat up, grateful for the darkness around them, throwing the words out in a whispered hiss.

„Don’t you dare to go into full psychiatrist mode now. I said later.“

Hannibal chuckles and Will echoes it for a moment before he reaches up and clasps Hannibal's shoulders, lifting his left leg up. Hannibal clicks his tongue and lowers a bit down, lifting Will up with barely a grunt. ‚I really haven’t thought this through‘ is the last thought that flashes through Will's mind before Hannibal's face is pressed against his thigh, definitely way too close to -there-. Will closes his eyes and then hurries to climb up on Hannibal’s shoulders, grabbing at the balcony above, trying to ignore his now flaming ears or the way Hannibal's hands grip his calves. Or trying to ignore that he -knows- Hannibal can probably discern everything he wants from smell alone. Goddammit. Will sighs softly and then pulls himself over the railing. 

He looks down at Hannibal and waits, frozen to the spot until Hannibal nods, reaching through the gaps to offer a hand up. Hannibal takes his hand with both of his, locking eyes with him for a moment and Will feels his mouth drop open for a second at the heat in them before Hannibal breaks the gaze. Will grunts slightly when Hannibal climbs up, using the wall and Will's hand, the motions pulling at his barely healed shoulder, sending tendrils of white hot pain down his arm. Will snarls, quietly, teeth flashing and Hannibal drops down next to him, still clasping his hand. For two heartbeats there is nothing and then Hannibal starts massaging Will's arm, pushing the cloth up, intensifying and then finally diffusing the pain with quick motions, sure and calm. A rather fitting mirroring of their relationship, Will muses, intensifying pain and finally diffusing it. If only Will would allow. He blinks and then withdraws his arm slowly from Hannibal's hands, making sure Hannibal can actually see the regret at having to do so this time, at least. 

Hannibal sneaks down the corridor to the open glass door like a ghost, and Will smirks wryly to himself, taking it all in, senses primed, the first time he actually observes Hannibal to do so, a lesson in deadly elegance and viciousness, darkness oozing and fogging around him like tar, ever changing. He throws a look over his shoulder at Will, as if he can feel the weight of his gaze, and Will jolts into action, creeping up to him, his pulse weirdly calm, all things considered.

Hannibal listens at the open door for a long moment, quietly and matter of factly parting the sheers with his forefinger after, disappearing into the dark room beyond. Will takes a deep fortifying breath before he follows, his heart kicking up speed now after all. He steps up to Hannibal, a weird blanket of indifference descending, mixing with the adrenaline, kicking him into high alert. Frederick is snoring on the couch, exuding fumes of alcohol, the flickering light of the muted TV illuminating him, the scarred, grafted on skin glowing weirdly, adding to the surreality. 

Will turns towards Hannibal lightly, feeling thrown back to the moment when Mason Verger was cutting his face off in his old living room, the gaze Hannibal offers him equally opaque and deep, watching him, eyes black, the blade of the knife he is offering silently glinting in the low light.  
Will swallows and -knows- suddenly, the path he is supposed to take clear. And yet… Will exhales a shuddering breath, his face pulling into a grimace of disgust as he observes Frederick Chilton with almost no derision, passed out in drunken stupor on a couch in an anonymous hotel, almost unrecognizable still, trying to run. 

From them both.

Will grits his teeth for a moment and then steps up to the snoring man, pulling the phone from Fredericks pocket carefully, sighing a breath of relief when he finds it unlocked, shaking his head at the stupidity simultaneously. He steps back up to Hannibal, locking gazes for a moment, Hannibal’s expression a weird mix of abject fury, disappointment and helpless pride and Will swallows, feeling weirdly stupid for ever thinking Hannibal might not feel and deeply at that. He closes the gap and turns to stand directly next to Hannibal, the flashlight as he takes a selfie of them both momentarily blinding.

He scrolls through the phones apps until he finds a basic photo editor, hesitating before supplementing the picture with text. He saves the pic and sets it as the lock screen background, sure to be seen. He puts the phone onto the side table, safe from being knocked off by accident and turns, Hannibal's hand on his chest stopping him. Will raises his eyes slowly, unsure of what he will find, Hannibal's eyes sharklike and devoid of any emotion, flitting back and forth between his. Hannibal's voice is almost inaudible, admiration coloring it, a stark counterpoint to the dark menace coming off of him in waves.

„What a vicious boy you are…“

Will presses his lips together for a moment, eyes flickering over to the sofa for a moment, trying to estimate how far Frederick is gone. He decides to pull this proverbial bull by the horns, stepping up to Hannibal until their chests touch, until Will can feel Hannibal's breath on his face, sending shivers down his spine. He raises his chin slightly, breathing the words, feeling the heat from Hannibal's lips on his own.

„And don’t you just… love it.“

The clatter of the knife falling onto the floor reaches Will from far away, just as Hannibal's hands lock in his hair, gripping his now longish again curls, and that mouth descends on his. It’s scorching hot pressure for a long moment, the world dropping away around them, and then one of them moans softly and Will turns his head, their lips gliding and the motion has a truly frightening effect, Will's arousal rushing through him like a fever rush, making him light headed.

Hannibal pushes one leg forward and Will moans deeply, his hands flexing in the jacket Hannibal wears, gripping and pulling. Another sound and Will doesn’t know who utters it because the wet slick heat pushing into his mouth demands all thought, takes his mind. The feel of Hannibal's stubble is rasping, the teeth sharp, nipping and taking, and Will gives as good as he gets, gasping when he draws first blood, the coppery taste drawing a growl from Hannibal.

The hand in Will's hair tightens and then pulls, separating them an inch and Will snarls, pulling against the hold, his hands clenching, the need to taste more, to -do- more a living, coiling thing, now that it is unleashed. Hannibal pushes forward and bites at his lower lip, viciously, drawing blood as well and Will hisses before he chuckles deeply, eyes heavily lidded. He licks the blood off his lips, noting the way Hannibal's eyes track the movement hungrily, the words raw.

„How long have you wanted to do this?“

Hannibal's eyes shoot up for a moment, before they drop down again, tone low and gravelly and yet surprisingly clear, all things considered.

„Since you told me you kissed Alana.“

Will snorts, just a tad on the bitter side, chancing a look over at Frederick, still deep in dreamless sleep. He works his jaw for a moment, throwing the words out.

„You should’ve just kissed me then back then…. would’ve spared us a lot of pain I gather.“

Hannibal hums, his fingers starting to knead lightly, the sensation so pleasant Will lets his head drop into it a bit, eyes heavily lidded. There is a smile on Hannibal's lips but his voice is grave, resigned.

„You were not ready.“

He pauses for a moment, supplementing quietly.

„We were not ready.“

Will swallows, shaking his head lightly as much as the grip allows, his mind flitting through their shared history. He smiles softly, surprisingly pain free, the puzzle pieces slotting into place.

„You sent her to me, didn’t you. The woman at the bar this afternoon.“

Hannibal smirks, definitely a tad on the proud side and Will rolls his eyes, hitting him none too gently into the chest. Hannibal chuckles quietly and then tightens his hands again minutely, leaning close.

„I did.“

Will breathes a laugh, not even surprised.

„You wanted to force my hand…. Asshole.“

Hannibal quirks an eyebrow, eyes pitch black.

„It has been months, Will. We needed to know. One way or the other.“

He pauses, leaning ever closer, lips dragging gently over Will's.

„I am… glad I did not miscalculate.“

Will swallows, admitting it verbally.

„No. You did not.“

He pauses, grinning wryly.

„When I … when I finally admitted it to myself it clicked into place. I always thought I loved you platonically, albeit with a capital ‚P‘. Well, for the most part.“

Hannibal hums, eyes flashing.

„Plato’s symposium does not negate sexual relations.“

Will grins sharply, licking another drop of blood away.

„And isn’t that a good thing…“

He looks over at the snoring Frederick and then drops his hands, stepping away slightly, as much as Hannibal lets him. He tilts his head slightly, extending his hand outward, indicating the glass door and Hannibal swallows once and then drops his hands, stepping back as well and Will grins, leading the way.

 

*****

 

Will climbs down the balcony slowly, letting himself drop the rest of the way, his heart skipping a beat when Hannibal lands on the grass next to him, lithe and deadly, straightening up like a panther. There is a long, intense moment when Will almost expects himself to be flung against the wall and taken right there but the moment passes, the air bristling between them. Will swallows, almost regretting and then he forces himself to turn and walk in the general direction of their little house, secludedly hidden in a little cove maybe half an hour away. He is halted by Hannibal's hand on his arm, pulling him gently down the road, not looking back at Will. He stops suddenly and Will realizes they have reached an old motorbike, black and heavy, sitting alone at a corner and Hannibal mounts it matter of factly, looking up at Will for a moment.

Will grins lopsidedly and then climbs onto it behind Hannibal, the seat narrow but big enough for them both. If he presses real tight. He slides forward, arranging his limbs properly, his crotch pressing into Hannibal's lower back, his hands linking in front of Hannibal's stomach, his nose full of the slightly sweaty smell of Hannibal's neck, mixing with the lingering aroma of the shampoo they use, and the pure smell of Hannibal's skin, fusing into something smokey and yet light. 

Addictive. 

Will closes his eyes as the machine rumbles to life beneath them, letting the hesitation drop away, remembering all the times that he got a whiff of this aroma before, refusing to relish in it and his lips attach themselves to Hannibal's neck as if they had a mind of their own, tasting and nipping. The turn of a corner shifts his seat slightly and he groans, pressing his hips forward, uncaring now, the world flying away around them.

He starts mouthing at Hannibal's neck and throat now in earnest, immersing himself in the feeling that he actually -can-, his hips taking up slow pressing moments, hands dropping lower by inches on every turn. He grins when he can finally feel the effect his actions have, his small bite drawing a grunt. Hannibal opens the garage with the remote and they roll in, the sound of the stand kicking out and catching the bike slightly to the side heavy in the darkness around them, the garage door closing again automatically.

Will hesitates for a long moment and then palms the bulge in Hannibal's pants, feels the deep breath expanding Hannibal's chest in his arms. He locks his legs and pushes forward with his weight, moaning against the sweaty skin in earnest when he feels Hannibal bend forward after a slight reluctance, the atmosphere shifting. Will follows with his body, the angle deeper now and he pushes his hips forward gently, drawing a deep sigh. He licks his lips and then the skin so close for good measure, voice almost breathless already.

„Is this what you want.“

An inaudible chuckle, only felt through the vibrations within the circle of Will's arms, Hannibal's voice a deep rumble.

„Amongst other things.“

Will gasps a laugh, biting softly at the meat of the shoulder, pushing the collar away with his nose. He hums, pressing his palm down slowly, hears the almost groan, drawing one from him as well. He sighs, shaking his head softly, tone vaguely regretful.

„We can’t. There’s nothing here we can use and I sure as hell won’t fuck you dry.“

Hannibal undulates slightly under him and Will narrows his eyes, catching on immediately. He chuckles, cackles really, his fingers pressing for a moment, drawing a hiss.

„Oh my god, me cursing is turning you on…“

There is an almost growl as an answer and Will laughs, more gently now, ending in a hum, emphasizing deliberately crudely. 

„Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me… After I have -fucked- you.“

This time there is a slight growl and Will chuckles, letting his head drop forward, his forehead pressing down between Hannibal's shoulder blades. He feels Hannibal search for something in his pockets, pushing a little vial into his hand. Will frowns and retracts it so he can see the label, snorting heavily when he can discern the words in the low light, his voice shaking with laughter.

„Extra virgin olive oil? Really??? And why do you have that on you?“

Hannibal turns just slightly, enough to shoot him a look over his right shoulder, dark and yet amused, the red almost completely eclipsed by black, deadpan.

„Well, I thought we would need to saute something… and I wasn’t sure if Frederick had appropriate oil in his kitchenette.“

Will snorts again, sniffing when he can feel tears of laughter threaten, pushing his forehead forward in small pushes repeatedly. He inhales deeply to calm himself and then moans again at the smell, softly, the momentarily stemmed arousal returning full force, shifting the atmosphere yet again. He draws his left hand down Hannibal's clothed thigh, biting his lips before he withdraws it, pushing himself up and back with some regret, though secure in the fact that he needs something else.

He gently puts his hands on Hannibal’s shoulders and pushes himself up and off the bike, waiting until Hannibal turns towards him, eyes dark. Will plays with the little bottle for a moment, his smirk gentling to something rawer for a moment. He locks gazes with Hannibal, tone soft, reluctant and yet steely.

„Not like this, Hannibal. Not for the first time.“

He licks his lips, voice breaking on the words.

„Not for -our- first time.“

Hannibal inhales deeply, pushing himself up and off the bike in one fluid motion, almost seeming to glide up to Will, a dark menace. He halts with only a few millimeters between them, eyes fathomless, unblinking on Will’s. Long seconds before Hannibal speaks, a single word that conveys all.

„Yes.“

Will exhales shudderingly, tilting his chin slightly up, the kiss hot and messy from the beginning, their limbs entwining, stumbling when they loose their balance and Will laughs into the kiss, his hands roaming, the little bottle clinking when it falls onto the ground. Hannibal’s hands travel down Will's back, hoisting him a bit up by the hips, the pull on his butt pressing into all the right places while pressing into answering hardness and Will breaks the kiss, moaning deeply. Hannibal descends onto his throat like a starving man, and Will pushes his fingers into the silver strands, letting himself fall into it. He stumbles when Hannibal pulls back suddenly, breathing heavily. Will opens eyes he does not recall closing, watching Hannibal trying to collect himself, looking disheveled. He shakes his head, voice breathless, raising his hands.

„No no no no no, Hannibal. No masks.“

Hannibal raises his eyes to Will’s, a wild look in them and for a moment the room shudders with the echo of the nightmarish Wendigo, overlaid by Will’s imagination. Hannibal’s voice scratches between them somehow, like fingernails on the chalkboard of Will’s soul.

„I wish to devour you.“

Will’s gut clenches, his smile burning on his stomach. He swallows and then steps sideways, turning to the door. He throws a look at Hannibal over his shoulder, hesitating before he turns towards Hannibal's bedroom, across from his own. They had shared beds often in the first weeks but moving, motels and the need to stay low and not attract attention had made distance necessary again at some point and Will admits to himself now that he probably used this as an excuse as well. 

He can feel Hannibal in his back, following like a dark shadow, no sounds around them except their still heavy breathing. Will stops at the bed, looking out through the window, the sea visible beyond their property, the moon glinting off the waves.

Will inhales deeply and then turns around, watching Hannibal watch him silently and Will smiles softly, feeling calm and resolute suddenly, still desperately aroused, yes, but serene somehow, as if this had been supposed to happen. Will steps out of his shoes, pushing them away with his foot, admitting to himself that it probably was bound to happen indeed, ever since he turned to Hannibal for comfort. 

For sanity. 

For everything. 

He swallows and then reaches up, undoing his buttons one by one, letting gravity pull his fingertips down slowly and thereby opening the shirt. Hannibal follows the trail with burning dark liquid eyes, frozen to the spot just a foot away, watching hungrily. Will lets his hands drop when he reaches the belt, pants way too tight, probably a good thing just now. He swallows and clears his throat, voice raw.

„Your turn.“

Hannibal turns his head to the side, eyes narrowing and then he rips the shirt open in the middle, buttons flying everywhere. He flings the shirt into the corner of the room, stepping out of his pants with quick, matter of fact motions, the trousers joining the shirt in the corner., catlike movements, muscles rippling. Will remembers to close his mouth when Hannibal straightens up again from removing his socks, shoes already gone somewhere on the way apparently. Will presses his lips together for a long moment, flabbergasted mirth bubbling up, his voice shaking a bit with laughter.

„Oh, I feel like I have had a bad influence on you.“

Hannibal smirks, a dangerous edge to it.

„As they say - you have no idea, mylimasis.“

With that he stalks over and Will's blood rushes south, his body reading the signs just fine. Hannibal’s hands go to his belt and pull it out, not quite as jerkily as with his own but not quite gently either, the movements jostling them both so that their shoulders and arms touch from time to time, little pinpricks of fire, rushing over their skin, leaving goosebumps in their wakes. Hannibal pushes Will’s pants down and they drop to his feet and then there is a heartbeat of nothing and then the world tilts, the bed rushing up and Will lands on his back with a rushed exhale, Hannibal crawling up to him. Will reaches up and pulls Hannibal down in a deep kiss, feeling as if starving, yearning for touch. He breaks the kiss, shaking his head on the bed, words rushing out.

„Touch me.“

Hannibal groans and then settles on Will, the weight heavy but welcome, both their hands gliding gently at first, the moments increasingly intense. Hannibal hovers his lips over Will’s and they roll a bit so that they are on their sides, limbs entwining again. Hannibal pushes forward and nips on Will’s lips again, worrying the spot where the skin broke and Will moans, sharp sparks of pleasure and pain rushing to his groin. Hannibal pulls and rolls them again, and Will settles down, using the momentum to claim Hannibal’s mouth, his tongue going deep, wet tendrils of heat coiling in his belly. He pushes his left leg in between Hannibal’s and pushes up, making them both moan, deeply. Will breaks the kiss, gasping, rolling his hips, once. He tilts his head, his curls obscuring his eyes, blue flames locking on blackish red, words heavy.

„Is this still what you want?“

Hannibal grins at him, sharply, before his hands trail down Will’s sides, just short of tickling, his fingertips pushing into the hem of Will's boxers, pulling at the skin softly. He tilts his chin up, eyes flashing, demanding.

„It is a start, mylimasis.“

Will chuckles and then rolls his hips again, moaning with Hannibal when their cocks brush through their boxers. He shakes his head and then bends down and kisses Hannibal again, just a swift kiss before he pushes up, fingers pulling softly at the hair on Hannibal’s chest. He traces the pectorals gently, brushing up again, gasping with Hannibal when he teases the nipples gently. Will bites his lips, increasingly light headed, his world narrowing down to them, in this bed, now.  
He forces the words out, trying to keep his concentration.

„I gather you have lube here?“

Hannibal pushes his hands up the inner side of Will's thighs, dropping away again before they can touch Will properly, grinning broadly. He reaches over and pulls a small tube from the nightstand drawer, offering it to Will silently. Will swallows and then puts it next to Hannibal on the bed, pushing himself up on all four. He hesitates a moment and then smile softly, crawling down Hannibal’s body, backwards, keeping their gazes locked until he is over Hannibal’s boxers, lowering himself until he can breathe across the cloth, watching the undulation of Hannibal’s body from the corner of his eyes.

He pulls them down gently and inhales deeply, the experience bordering on surreal, the smell a craved thing, necessary suddenly, on a purely base level. Will moans and then just does it, not thinking, the sound Hannibal makes more than enough reward for the strange feeling, the skin as he glides down far softer and smooth than anticipated. He gags much sooner than expected, drawing back up, shaking his head once before he pushes down again, Hannibal’s hands in his hair fidgeting and loose, careful but yet unable to be somewhere else. There is a low pulse as he presses his tongue forward and then the taste hits Will’s tongue and he groans, resulting in more of the same, the feeling echoed in his own groin. He pulls off with wild eyes, swallowing compulsively, feeling unmoored. 

He reaches down and pushes his own boxers off, pressing into the base for a long moment until he feels as if he can control it again, sees how Hannibal pulls his arms up to reach over his head, holding onto the headboard. Hannibal swallows, sounding broken, need coming off of him in waves, need for everything that they are, here, now.

„I will not be able to make it through proper preparation. Just go slow, Will.“

Will shakes his head, frowning, voice incredulous.

„Oh no, I know all about it, after all, no way.“

Hannibal huffs a painful laugh, one hand coming down to trace Will’s jaw gently, locking their gazes.

„And -I- actually know, Will. Just go slow.“

Will swallows, voice raw, a part of him longing for this, longing to claim, trying to refuse with a dash of humor.

„You won’t be able to sit for days…“

Hannibal grins, sharply, his hand on Will’s face traveling to Will’s mouth, pressing gently into the wound in Will’s lower lip, spreading fire.

„Not if you do it properly.“

Will snarls and then rears up, panting over Hannibal’s face, eyes wild. He reaches over and slicks himself up, almost defiantly, feeling weirdly out of body. He pulls Hannibal’s legs up and pushes them up, almost doubling Hannibal in half and then he has to grip himself again, the picture that is presented almost too much. He uses more lube on Hannibal when he can breathe again, pressing gently, his mind short circuiting with the tightness. Hannibal groans and then reaches up over his head again, gripping the headboard tightly. 

„Now, mylimasis.“

Will gasps a sob and then he lines up and presses, forcing himself to hold again immediately, the pressure already so, so good. He grips Hannibal’s legs under his knees, spreading him and holding him, keeping the pressure, his body shaking with the force he holds himself with. Hannibal is watching him, face slack, all senses trained on Will, his body a vice, giving torturously slow. Will leans forward when he feels the relaxation finally and then lets gravity do the rest, letting out a torturous low and long moan as he bottoms out, almost sobbing from the intensity, Hannibal panting harshly beneath him. He lets Hannibal’s legs drop to his shoulders and then holds for a long moment until he feels Hannibal relax some more, black, fathomless eyes burning into his soul. 

He lets go then, giving into the urge to claim, sweat rolling down his back. He chases the sounds Hannibal makes until he finds the precise angle that breaks them, tearing at both their souls, branding them viciously. He slows down eventually, Hannibal convulsing around him, wet heat between them and then he lets himself fall, forcing himself deep until he can see the effect of it on Hannibal’s face, warring with devotion. Hannibal catches him when the sounds ebb away, leaving echoing satiation behind, drawing blackness for them both.

 

******

 

„It’s weird to see you actually sleeping. Or waking up…“

Hannibal chuckles, half buried with his head under the pillows, naked skin glowing in the early morning light. He turns his head towards Will, exhaling, easily the most relaxed that Will has ever seen him and it hurts him, in a good way. Hannibal’s smile gentles, the blinks slow, eyes glowing red.

„You have seen me sleep at various times in the last few months, mylimasis.“

Will shakes his head, propped up on his right hand, his left hand reaching over to place his fingertips against Hannibal's skin, just under his ribs.

„Not like this.“

Hannibal is silent, only slightly tilting his head, posture open. Will muses quietly, wonderingly.

„There was always something alert about you… as if you were not sleeping at all. The only times when that was gone, was when you were unconscious.“

He narrows his eyes, mischievousness entering his features, tone sly.

„Come to think of it, how exactly did you manage to sleep back then in Baltimore? I mean, with everything going on and your day job… it’s no wonder you fooled everyone for so long, no-one would simply think you had the time…“

There is a smirk on Hannibal’s lips now and Will is fascinated by the hints of dimples he can see, there and gone again when the smirk spreads to a real smile, teeth flashing for a moment.

„I have perfected the art to fall into a state of rest with my eyes open. A useful ability in my work as a psychiatrist, I assure you.“

Will’s mouth drops open, incredulous and then he gaffs, his whole body shaking.

„Oh my god, that is the best thing…. Hannibal, you ass.“

There is a slight shift as Hannibal's rolls onto his side fully, his tone just on this side of indignant.

„If I may assure you, Will, none of my patients were left wanting. I always fulfilled my responsibilities with the utmost care.“

Will snorts, wiping at a tear, still shaking with mirth.

„I bet, some more than others, too.“

Hannibal exhales in a long rush, sobering Will up with a single word.

„Indeed.“

Will watches Hannibal for long minutes, frowning, the smile painful.

„Why. Why did you decide to heap all this attention… this care on me so early. It can’t have all been only self protection or vague interest at that point. Not that early.“

Hannibal wets his lips, hesitating for a moment and Will grinds his jaw, needing the answer. Hannibal's voice is hesitant, raw.

„I believe I fell for you the first time you looked into my eyes, in Jack’s office.“

Silence, like a shock to the system, history crashing down on them, stifling. Will forces himself to breathe after a moment, blinking rapidly, hearing Hannibal continue, haltingly, as if from far away.

„I did not realize it at the time, Will. In a way, I only was able to face the emotion fully after… after I left for Italy.“

Will swallows, his eyes closing, his left hand withdrawing to cover the smile, burning in phantom pain. He inhales shakingly, blinking back the tears, trying for a smile, ending in a grimace, his voice dripping with disdain.

„And then you went and flew away with… her.“

Hannibal raises his chin, watching Will’s eyes for a long moment, tone sure.

„And you punished her for it.“

Will grinds his jaw, working through the acidic emotions this produces, aiming for equilibrium. He forces himself to answer, spine rigid.

„You took her leg. I only brought you there. And yes, it was indeed quite delicious.“

Hannibal smiles at him for a moment, sharply, his eyes equally sharp, voice cutting through the crap.

„The future was yours to direct when I was bound to that wheelchair, Will. You decided to kill the last wife.“

Will interjects, snarling.

„I didn’t kill her.“

Hannibal raises his eyebrows, deadpan.

„No. I did, when she tried to stab you. A fitting death really, head turned back, hunched over the feast she made of herself.“

Will is silent, emotions jarring, eyes flinty. Hannibal clicks his tongue, vague amusement coloring his tone.

„It was then that I knew you would be truly mine, eventually.“

Will’s nostrils flare, ire running hot through him, tone acidic, flat.

„Did you now…“

Hannibal smiles softly at him, whispering.

„You left your ring there, Will. That night, you left it in the downstairs bathroom on the little shelf, carefully put aside.“

Will’s vision blurs, clearing again when the tear finally falls, unheeded, voice toneless.

„Leave her out of it.“

Hannibal tilts his head, eyes calculating, tone soft, nonetheless changing the subject back.

„Did you know that Bedelia called me after your sessions? Every session she had with you, she would gloat, after. I believe Alana allowed it because she thought it might hurt me, dampen my spirits as it were. Little did she know… Every session, except the last one, of course. Tell me, Will, what did Bedelia say to you, the second last session you had with her? The session that finally made you choose your fate?“

Will gasps quietly, flopping down onto his back, staring unseeing at the ceiling. He licks his lips, feeling Hannibal scoot closer, until he can feel Hannibal’s body heat on his skin, Hannibal’s breath tickling his shoulder. He shakes his head softly, the question echoing through him.

„I asked her if you were in love with me…“

Hannibal comes even closer, breathing into Will’s ear.

„And what did she answer.“

„That…“

Will hesitates, breathing difficult suddenly. He forces himself on, watching the suns rays play on the wall.

„That you felt a daily stab of hunger for me, and were nourished only by the very sight of me.“

He turns to Hannibal, daring to lock their gazes.

„Yes.“

Hannibal’s pupils dilate slightly, breathing the next words.

„And do you … ache… for me?“

Will exhales shudderingly, opting for humor.

„Well, if the furious masturbation afterwards was anything to go by…“

He sobers, blinking once, slowly, frowning slightly.

„Yes. I cannot help myself but ache for you. Desperately. I’ve… tried.“

Hannibal reaches up, cupping the left side of Will’s face, thumb stroking gently.

„I know.“

Will closes his eyes and Hannibal draws close, enveloping him in an embrace, pressing the broken pieces together until they jostle into place, their foreheads pressing together, as important as breathing.

 

******

 

The next time Will wakes to the smell of coffee, drafting over to him from the bedside table. He rolls onto his side, burrowing his face into the sheets still smelling of them, satisfying deeply on a purely base level. He opens one eye when he hears a noise from the other side of the room, looking over lazily to see Hannibal pack their clothing, very few possessions their own besides the necessities. He inhales deeply, stretching and then clears his throat, trying to hold on to the last vestiges of relaxation, feeling the excitement beckoning again, already.

„I take it Frederick has checked his phone?“

Hannibal looks over at him, kneeling there, expression vaguely amused.

„Indeed. He has the whole town in an uproar, I am told.“

Will snorts, shaking his head slightly before he pushes himself up with a grunt, carefully taking the mug over with both hands, blowing the steam away. He takes a sip, sighing in pleasure when the taste explodes in his mouth, voice vaguely dreamlike.

„Well, there is something to be said for insanely expensive coffee…“

Hannibal chuckles, smirking up at him for a moment.

„I am afraid we are running low on supplies though and we will not be able to purchase it while on sea.“

Will hums and then shrugs, eyes flitting over the room, looking out of the window into their backyard for a moment, sounds of their neighborhood awake and busy drifting in, children running and yelling, hurrying towards school.

„Nothing lasts, Hannibal.“

Hannibal zips up the suitcase and pushes himself up, watching Will for a long moment before he walks over, sitting on the side of the bed lightly, their thighs touching. He reaches over and takes Will’s right hand, stroking the digits lightly, an intense and dangerous and yet calm and gentle aura about him.

„No, it does not, mylimasis.“

He entwines their fingers, his eyes boring into Will’s, flaming where the sun catches them.

„Let us live the time we are given, Will. Fully. Together.“

He licks his lips, watching Will’s face intently.

„Let us make this world our own.“

Will’s heart thuds in his chest, once, hard, heat rushing through him. He pulls at their linked hands, adrenaline rushing through him when Hannibal just follows the slight pull, eyes dropping to Will's’s lips. Will smiles and then pushes his chin forward, just a bit, waiting for the kiss, gentle soft heat that seals his fate.

The world drops away and when Will shudders to completion once more, taken and completed, his soul shifts slightly, realigning. 

Taking the chance.

 

******

 

They just walk out of their patio door in the evening, walking down to the little marina down the street amidst their lounging and milling neighbors, their boat prepared already, the need for an escape route present at all times. Hannibal stops at the office with the little shop, buying a newspaper with the brazen nonchalance that keeps them also so effectively safe, totally ignoring the screaming headlines, the man selling the newspaper never making the connection. Will prepares the boat quietly, happily anticipating their time at sea, mapping the route down the coast of South America in his mind.

Hannibal lightly steps onto the deck, settling in the back with the newspaper, looking intensely relaxed. Will smirks and pushes them off, using the small current to let the boat float out, Cuba dropping away, slowly, like a fading dream, intense and otherworldly.

He pulls the sails up when they’ve cleared the harbor, the light breeze enough for a sedate pace, their ship big enough for the two of them but small enough to not rouse suspicions. And deliberately looking pretty shabby. Will sighs contently, looking up at the tainted sails, splattered with coffee stains and red wine, making them look ancient. The wind pulls at his hair and he locks their course in, letting the hidden, self-installed automatic sailing engine take over. He skips over to Hannibal, dropping into the seat beside him, dropping his head back. His voice sounds faraway, content and utterly relaxed, and Hannibal draws him in after a moment, humming gently.

„So what does the headline say?“

Hannibal folds the newspaper so Will can see it, the wind pulling at the sheets.

„It says: ‚Murder Husbands on the loose on Cuba - threatening Dr. Frederick Chilton.‘“

Will lets out an overly exasperated sigh, vaguely disappointed.

„No word on my actual text on the image?“

Hannibal squeezes his shoulder for a moment, chuckling softly.

„I am afraid not, Will. However…“

He pauses, putting the newspaper away, turning his head to press a kiss onto Will’s temple, words breathed against Will’s skin.

„I really enjoyed your ‚Not crispy enough for our tastes, Frederick.‘“

He grins and nudges Will's jaw with his nose, words almost inaudible, laced with sardonic glee.

„It was, as I believe they say, ‚quantifiably bitchy‘.“

Will snorts and then shrugs, shivers running through him as the boat picks up speed, the winds in their favor, Hannibal’s teeth grazing his ear. He sighs and relaxes into Hannibal's embrace, his neck prickling with unseen antlers, the phantom taste of copper heavy in his mouth.

 

******

 

It really is never this easy, is it. It is what Will thinks when the coastal guards boat shows up on the horizon, tailing them or a moment and then dropping back, only to show up again at the edge of their vision a few hours later, the high quality binoculars showing the familiar bulk of a man, hunched over the bow.

Will drops the binoculars with a sigh, contemplating silently for a moment, frustration coloring his tone.

„Why isn’t he coming closer? It’s been what, 6 hours now?“

Hannibal runs a soothing hand down Will's back, feeling the locked muscles underneath the shirt. Will grinds his jaw, feeling edgy, not wanting to calm down and Hannibal sighs softly, his hand dropping away again.

„I believe they, somewhat conversely, may want to wait until we actually reach international waters. As you very well know we have stayed within coastal reach for the night, going deliberately slow as to not rouse suspicion, our speed just shy of idling after all.“

Hannibal tilts his head, clicking his tongue, a slight shrug visible from the corner of Will’s eyes.

„And I do not believe that we have roused suspicion.“

Will snarls quietly for a moment, picking up the thread.

„Which means someone dropped them a hint. Maybe one of the neighbors.“

Hannibal nods once, voice calm.

„For Jack to be here so soon it would seem so, yes.“

Will exhales heavily through his nose, rolling his shoulders, voice cold suddenly, determination settling with the realization.

„And he is not intending to take us back to the US this time… He told me once, back when we were hunting the organ harvester… that he would kill the Chesapeake ripper.“

Will smiles grimly, eyes flashing.

„Guess he’s not taking any chances anymore. Meaning those people on there will be willing to shoot first as well.“

Hannibal takes the binoculars from Will, contemplating the ship for a long moment.

„There cannot be more than 5 people in that crew, plus Jack. It is a rather small patrol boat.“

Will snorts darkly, derision crossing his features in a grave expression.

„Guess Jack didn’t want to have too many witnesses.“

Will lets his head drop back for a moment, watching the clear sky above them, the stars beckoning above them. He turns slightly towards Hannibal, shrugging.

„Two hours till dawn. Let’s prepare.“

Hannibal lowers the binoculars, smiling softly, eyes fathomless black.

 

******

 

Will anchors the ship when the sun is about to rise, pretending to yawn and stretch, before wandering below deck, supposedly tiredly. He springs into action as soon as the little cabin door closes behind him, skipping forward into the front cabin, where Hannibal has already pushed open the little window, just big enough to squeeze through. Will takes off his shirt and throws it into the closet, climbing through and out on the far side of the boat in his swimming shorts, turned away from the patrol ship closing in slowly. 

He drops into the cool water, submerging only for a second, the water a refreshing coolness, far from cold at this time of the year. Hannibal holds the flippers out for him and Will puts them on his feet, treading water to counter Hannibal putting the weights and scuba tanks on him, spitting into the googles, washing them with some water after. He puts them on and then nods once, sees Hannibal give him the ‚OK‘, already breathing with the mouthpiece. Will stops treading water and exhales, letting the weights pull him down, the relatively low depth of only 30 feet easily reached. Will works his jaw and feels the pressure equalization, turning towards Hannibal, holding his thumb and forefinger in an okay. Hannibal echoes it and turns towards the far boat, staying close to the ground, breathing as little as possible to keep the air from bubbling up too much.

It is a tranquil calm, little fishes and crabs scuttling away at this depth, a manta ray lazily burrowing into its resting place in the sand, unperturbed by them. Everything is still dark gray around them, colors missing, the vibrant blue and explosion of colors something dawn will bring soon. 

Will kicks his legs harder, closing in on Hannibal when he sees the shadow in the distance, the ships anchor dragging lazily through the sand, back and forth, raising clouds of muddy water in front of them. Will reaches out and touches Hannibal's arm, indicating a turn with his hand and they swim a wide turn, coming up very slowly behind the ship, using the anchor chain to stop for decompression and observation. Will puts his knee around the chain and floats, face up, watching the dark shadow of the ship above through the waters surface, trying to release breath in small intermittent bursts. 

There is no movement above, at least to be seen from their position and he checks his watch, releasing the chain, letting himself float up gently. He pulls the scuba tanks off and hangs them on the anchor chain, attaching the goggles to them, trying to keep most of his head in the water, very close to the boats hull now, the waves hitting the hull masking any sound they make. He feels Hannibal come up behind him, without tanks and goggles as well and they swim to the aft section, keeping close to the hull. Will pulls off his flippers there, putting them in between the ship’s propellor blades. He turns, sees the smirk as Hannibal does the same, a weird calm descending on him. 

Will pulls himself up next to the rescue dinghy, listening for movement in a squat, Hannibal kneeling close to him. He pulls the knife from the holster at his lower leg, edging up slowly, watching as the shadows move in the main cabin up on second level, illuminated by the just rising sun. He inhales deeply and then hurries towards the lower deck door, breathing a sigh of relief when he finds it unlocked.  
He quietly closes it again when Hannibal steps in after him, whispering in what appears to be the empty mess hall, mind in overdrive.

„I saw 6 shadows up there. More or less what we anticipated.“

Hannibal nods, looking around before he bends close, his lips grazing Will’s ear.

„Indeed. We should create a diversion though, just in case.“

He turns towards the little kitchen, pouring most of the coffee away before he puts the coffeepot back on high, smirking at Will when he returns. He indicates the corner behind the door, waiting until they are actually huddled close there before he leans near again, eyes sparkling.

„If I am not mistaken, this will start to smoke and then burn in approximately 5 minutes. The alarm will draw them down and through the door, the supposed accidental fault will be the chefs. Someone will help him put out the fire but the others will return, shaking their head at the supposed stupidity. We will start with the ones staying.“

Will swallows, his hand on the knife tightening. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying and failing to let go of his unease of trapping and murdering someone in cold blood, without any… trigger. Without proof that the men about to die would do the same to them. Hannibal watches him for a moment and then cups his head in his right hand, his thumb stroking his ear and wet hair softly, tone gentle.

„Your light is what illuminates your darkness so very beautifully, mylimasis. I will not risk you, nor ask you for this. However, I will be honored if you choose to defend me. “

Will nods, relieved beyond measure, frowning at himself, shaking his head, his voice almost inaudible.

„I’m sorry. I just…“

Hannibal grins sharply, teeth and eyes flashing, tone proud, sure and wild.

„I am not.“

He hesitates and then drops his hand, his stance changing, and Will’s neck prickles, a shudder running through him at the sudden shift in atmosphere. The coffeepot explodes in a rain of little glass shards, the remaining coffee dregs bursting into flames, a siren howling to life almost immediately.

There is a cacophony of movement above, footsteps raining down the stairs somewhere and then the door is flung open, almost fully into Will's face, only stopped down by Hannibal's hand preventing a bloody nose. There is an unnerved exultation, and then malicious cackling, hooting laughter shooing two men in, the alarm dying again after a moment. A short, heated argument and then a mumbled, spiteful cursing, driven on by another mans sardonic comments and Will wonders for a moment at how one does not necessarily need to speak the language perfectly to know the basics of what is going on.

Hannibal steps out of the doors shadow like a menace, movements fluid and graceful, the spray as the knife cuts the jugular of the first man painting the tables red. The man drops almost silently, heavily in shock and the chef turns as if in slow motion, his mouth opening to a shout. Will can see the glint of the blade as Hannibal hurls it, going deep into the chest, felling him as well, sticky red spreading in the kitchen. Will inhales shakily, feeling antlers expand, the coppery smell making him light headed. He steps out from behind the door, his grip on his own knife flexing, watching Hannibal silently as he retrieves his knife, wiping it matter of factly with a dish towel.

There is a gasp behind him and then the click of a gun being cocked and Will spins around, not even thinking, his arm coming up and pushing, the knife going in under the mans jaw and Will gasps before he pulls him in with his other hand, stumbling into the mess hall together, harshly ripping the knife out after a moment, the mans eyes wild, Will's focus drawn in, in, until it is the only thing he sees. Hannibal steps up behind him and twists his neck, looking down at the crumpled heap of limbs for a moment before he steps over the body, his lips jarring Will back into reality and he gasps, harshly, trying to breathe through the feeling. He puts his hand on Hannibal's chest, feels the coarse hair and the sedate heartbeat, using the sensations to ground himself. He raises his eyebrows when he feels like himself again, voice heavy with a myriad of emotions, all vying for dominance, ignoring them all for now,. He puts the knife into its sheath again, mumbling through the restriction in his throat.

„Three down, one to go.“

Hannibal narrows his eyes, flitting back and forth between Will’s.

„One?“

Will licks his lips, watching how Hannibal tracks the movement, how his pupils dilate, helplessly. He smiles softly, reaching up to trace a watery red droplet running down Hannibal's throat, shrugging slightly.

„I heard captains can officiate. And we do need a witness who knows us.“

There is a literal pause as Hannibal stills, no muscle moving and then Hannibal blinks, once, bending his head so his forehead descends onto Will's shoulder. Will smiles brokenly, his vision wavering, hands coming up to glide gently through Hannibal's silvery strands, almost dry again already. Hannibal's hands are on his upper arms, hovering, only fingertips barely touching as if he were afraid to touch and it is this absence of touch that hurts Will in the best way, the frailty of the emotion strengthening the force of their connection, forcing itself deep into Will's soul.

He pulls Hannibal up after a moment, finding his lips blindly, the kiss a chaste benediction, just a press of intent. Hannibal's fingertips descend onto his skin properly, gliding up until he can gently grip Will's head as well, the kiss breaking to allow them to lock their gazes, fathomless obsessive need recognizing desperate possessive recognition, fusing them in the moment. 

Someone shouting down breaks the spell and Will smiles softly, stepping back. Hannibal swallows and does the same, a shroud of darkness descending in Will's vision, cancelling out the rays of sun, streaming in through the door. There is an angry shout and then he can hear the man argue with Jack, the booming voice unmistakeable, though they cannot make out the words. 

Will looks at Hannibal and smiles, extending his arm, bowing down lightly and Hannibal smirks, eyes flashing red.

 

******

 

Hannibal lowers the man descending the stairs to the floor, another broken neck, another mark on their score and Will watches on almost dispassionately, feverish anticipation deep in his guts suddenly. He nods at Hannibal and then Hannibal barges onto the bridge at full speed, barreling into Jack, using the moment of surprise to knock him down. Will steps up behind them, a dead mans gun cocked, making sure Hannibal can collect all the weapons without any problems, the captain watching on darkly in consternated fury and Jack… Jack looking almost relieved. Will grinds his jaw and keeps the gun trained on Jack, knowing instinctively that the Captain will be the lesser problem. He sighs softly, and then tilts his head, a grimace of weary amusement tinged with fatalism crossing his features.

„Hi Jack.“

Jack pushes himself up against the wall, flinty eyes looking back and forth between them, silent for a long time, a note of defensiveness and defeat in his tone when he finally speaks.

„Will. I see you hitched your horse to another post now.“

Will smiles almost grimly, recalling that scene so long ago.

„No need for me to hide behind glasses anymore.“

Hannibal steps between Will and the Captain, sharklike eyes taking in every movement, but Will can tell his senses are trained on their conversation, listening intently. Jack cackles, the underlying emotion lacerated with derision.

„No need to hide behind anything anymore I gather…“

Will exhales, shaking his head, recognizing the futility of discussion immediately, weirdly relieved by it. He changes the subject, cutting to the chase.

„Did Molly divorce after my presumed death?“

Jack frowns, irritated.

„What the hell does that have to…“

„Yes or no.“

Will's voice is hard and he can see the moment it clicks, Jacks features hard, grinding the word out between locked teeth.

„Yes.“

Will's heart skips a beat, and he steps one step closer, kneeling down so he can lock eyes with Jack, gun pointing at Jacks chest, still.

„Well then, Jack. I hope you like to attend weddings. We don’t have any … official… identification you know, so we do need your testimony.“

Jack looks at him darkly, silently fuming, spitting the words out eventually.

„Why would I, Will? You will kill me after anyway.“

Will smiles at him, gently and yet deadly, as sharp as broken glass, cutting just as deep.

„Only if you refuse…“

He pushes himself up, looking down at Jack for a moment, shrugging slightly.

„You may leave after bearing witness to our ceremony, Jack. The Captain as well. You have my word.“

He shifts his weight, never even looking at Hannibal and just waits until Jack nods, never doubting that he will, and when Jack finally does he smiles, eyes flashing blue fire.

 

*******

 

„Do you think they will reach the main land in that thing?“

Hannibal shrugs lightly, tone sardonically gleeful, eyes sparkling, his hands on Will’s stomach stroking gently, each breath pressing his chest into Will's back. He bends down and presses a kiss to Will’s neck, the sensation shivering through Will, enhanced by the cool mid morning breeze.

„Well, they have only one paddle and you handcuffed them to the sides of the dinghy. However, since you were…“

Hannibal squeezes gently, his fingers tickling along the smile on Will’s stomach and Will squirms slightly, grinning a bit.

„Since you were so kind as to give them a short wave radio I believe they will be picked up in a while.“

Will hums, tilting his head up and back to receive a kiss, feeling addictively free to be able to do so. He sighs when Hannibal withdraws, lightly nipping at his lips, gentle fire spreading wherever they touch.

„I want Jack out there… gnashing his teeth, fuming…“

Hannibal sparkles down at him, eyes red fire in the sun.

„Hunting us, beloved?“

Will grins, fiercely, humming for a moment.

„Adds spice to it, doesn’t it?“

Hannibal growls at him, biting playfully into Will’s ear, arousal coiling in Will’s belly at the sensation. He groans slightly and then shakes his head once, putting reason first, for now.

„We should return to our boat, Hannibal Graham-Lecter. Time to change the sails and pull the foil off the nameplates…“

Hannibal smiles sharply, squeezing once, tightly, before letting go, the sun illuminating his hair to iridescent silver. He winks at Will and then jumps into the water in a head dive, a spray of salt water sprinkling Will and he laughs, gleefully, eyes reopening to the blue sky, the sun blazing down upon them. 

He takes the little waterproof box with the hastily set up legal documents, making sure it’s locked tight and then he follows Hannibal into the liquid turquoise blue, colors all around him, bursting with life, the whole world beckoning, the dark shadow of Hannibal up ahead, leading the way.

\--

**Author's Note:**

> ____
> 
> Feedback and criticism is always welcome!  
> Comments feed my muse! :)  
> Hope you liked!


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